


Walk a mile in my pants

by spockside



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bodyswap, Friendship, Gen, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockside/pseuds/spockside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Steve are constantly bickering, the team has had enough, and a solution comes from an unexpected source: Make them live each other's lives for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk a mile in my pants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassandraoftroy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandraoftroy/gifts).



> Spoilers for Iron Man 3 and Avengers; canon divergent from Captain America and Avengers.

_"That's the guy my dad wouldn't shut up about?"_

_"You're a lab experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle."_

_"I know guys with none of that who are worth ten of you."_

_"The only thing you fight for is yourself."_

* * *

Sure, they'd gotten past those slings and arrows, verbally, at least. Before taking off on his American tour, Steve had shaken Tony's hand and made sure they were "square", whatever that meant. Tony did not feel at all guilty or remorseful for anything he'd said or done to Steve. He'd thought they were making progress toward mutual respect.

Then Captain Righteous got on his high horse and chewed Tony out, over the comms yet, like he couldn't wait for a private conversation to vent about Tony's inability to work with the team or share with the class.Tony made sure he was in Steve's line of sight before giving him the double bird and pointedly flying off in the opposite direction from yet another bureaucratically mandated debrief.

He went back to the tower, locked down his private rooms (except for Pepper and Bruce, of course), and flung himself into building a comm jamming system that would block SHIELD frequencies in general and Avenger comms in particular.

When Pepper came home and inquired as to the cause of his black mood, all he said was, "I really do play well with others. Just not Captain Steve Tight-Ass."

Pepper sighed. "I don't want to know what happened," she told him. "I'm off to have drinks with Peggy, and if the subject comes up I want to be able to say I know nothing."

She gives him a quick kiss and takes off, and that's another thing that burns his hide. You'd think that after finding the love of his life in a cryo-tank on an old HYDRA base, bringing her back, fresh as a daisy and ready to fight by his side - you'd think the old man would loosen up a little. Steve and Peggy had gotten married at the first available nanosecond, and getting laid was like a universal cure for Stick Up The Ass Syndrome, right?

Tony sighed. He liked Peggy, a whole lot more than he liked Steve, and he was glad she and Pepper had bonded. He wondered what they talked about over drinks, then he decided it was better he didn't know. He had an uneasy feeling one of the subjects would be himself.

* * *

"Dear Lord, the male ego hasn't changed a bit," Peggy said, rolling her eyes. Contrary to Tony's belief, she and Pepper had been talking about Justin Hammer, who was back in the news for firing his lawyers Yet Again.

"Well, if nothing else it keeps him out of our hair," Pepper replied. "There's no shortage of bad guys of every stripe, these days. Justin seems like a minor nuisance in comparison."

"Sounds like the Avengers assembled in the nick of time. Fury seems to have had the right idea, however poorly executed. I don't know how they're going to continue, though - it's not as though they're anything like a cohesive unit."

"You noticed that?" Pepper said dryly. "As far as I know, Steve and Clint are the only two who have ever spent time in the armed services, and thus part of a command structure. The rest of them are a mixed bag of brilliance, wildly varying skills, and defiance of authority of any kind. And yes, Tony tops the list on two out of three of those."

"I wasn't going to say." Peggy sighed. "Command structure is the core of Steve's philosophy. Though he can veer off the path if he's inspired and convinced of his cause. He and the Commandos were capable of great loyalty as well as great lunacy."

"Sounds like Tony would have fit right in," Pepper replied. "Well, except for the structure part. He looks like he's going off half-cocked, but really, most of his craziness is completely calculated."

"Too bad we can't lock them in a room until they learn to get along," said the other woman. "Or dump them on a desert island somewhere. As soon as we did there'd surely be a call to assemble."

"Too bad."

* * *

_A week later_

Something was ringing. Or buzzing. Maybe it was his head - how much had he had to drink last night? Tony cracked one eyelid open and noted that not only was it dark outside, but it was dark outside somebody else's window.

He sat up and located the noise; it really was an alarm clock, right next to the bed. He didn't even own a damn alarm clock, and if he did it wouldn't make that godawful racket. He slapped the top and it went mercifully silent.

"JARVIS?"

No reply. Tony squinted around the unfamiliar room. No JARVIS, no Chrysler Building outside the window, hard bed, and no Pepper - which did happen occasionally, but he could have sworn she'd joined him in bed after getting home late. In their bed, in his tower.

Worst of all, the possessed alarm clock showed the time as five a.m., as ungodly an hour as ever created. If Tony was ever up at this hour it was because he'd been up all night, or working in his lair and thus unaware of the time, or making sweet good-morning love with his CEO.

A sudden chill seized him and he leaped to his feet, staring wildly around the room. What if - ? He hadn't - had he? He wouldn't. Not possible. Well, technically possible, but - No. There was no way he would have gone home with someone other than his one and only Pepper Potts.

The room was even plainer than a hotel - not that Tony ever stayed in any hotel with fewer than five stars - but there were a few things on a chest of drawers across from the bed. Tony sidled over to look. A couple of linen handkerchiefs, plain white, neatly folded. A framed photo of a woman, a head shot, black and white.

He picked up the frame and padded over to the window to study the picture, and almost dropped it when he recognized the face. Peggy Carter. The same woman who now emerged from the bathroom in a demure nightgown, rubbing her eyes and climbing back into the bed that Tony had vacated.

Very carefully, Tony set the photo down on the bedside table and stood still. Should he get back in bed and hope this was a bizarre dream? Should he look for his clothes and try to sneak out? Peggy was a spy, after all, what were his chances of getting away unnoticed?

"Steve? Come back to bed, darling."

That was Peggy's voice, all right.

"Um, in a minute," said Tony, then froze yet again. That was not his own voice. It sounded, in fact, incredibly like the voice he hated to hear through his commlink.

He mumbled something while scuttling into the bathroom, switched on the light, and blinked stupidly at the man in the mirror. Not Tony Stark, but Steve Rogers stared back at him, all six feet whatever, blond, blue eyed and buff.

And in the buff. Not that Tony ever thought about what Steve wore to bed, but if pressed he might have guessed flannel pajamas, or possibly long johns. Nope. It was bare skin as far the eye could see, unmarked (because of that super soldier healing), lean and tight and will you look at that ass?

He caught himself looking and gave himself a mental kick. Flushing the toilet to establish an alibi, he switched off the light, decided to go with the bizarre dream theory, and went back into the bedroom.

Fortunately, Steve's body (in the dream) knew its way around, so he got back into bed without stubbing toes or tripping over anything, easing under the covers and listening to Peggy's breathing. She sounded asleep, so Tony relaxed, lay down on his back - he was a side sleeper, but this felt natural to this form - and stilled yet again when a dainty arm stretched across his now-broad chest and a warm female body snuggled under his arm, her head on his chest.

This was supremely weird, but very comfortable, so Tony went to sleep.

* * *

_Four hours later_

"Tony. Tony, come on, Bruce made a huge breakfast, Thor's here, Jane's here, you're not gonna want to miss it."

Why wasn't Tony getting up, or at least responding? Pepper sounded more amused than worried. Steve pulled a pillow over his head - which was suddely snatched away and wielded as a battering ram on his head.

"What! Tony, would you call off - "

Steve sat straight up in bed and was bombarded with several very important impressions at once. First, this wasn't his bedroom; second, the sun was blazing away instead of just coming up; third, the person pummeling him with the pillow was Pepper Potts; and fourth, he was wearing a tank tee and boxers, whereas he usually slept in the raw.

Last but not least, there was a sharp pain in his chest which subsided quickly into a dull, constant ache. Steve hadn't felt pain like that since - well, since he'd gone down with the plane. He looked down at himself, pulled his shirt up and was greeted by the sight of multiple scars and dark hair. Dark hair?

His head snapped up, to find Pepper looking thoughtfully down at him.

"Tony?" she asked cautiously.

Steve stared at her for a minute, then he swallowed hard and said, "Not really, no."

He was astonished to see her face relax into a fond smile rather than a horrified grimace.

"Steve," she said gently, holding out her hand. "It's all right. Come on, come down to breakfast with me."

"I'm not - this is - what's going on?" He scrambled out of bed (now grateful for being clothed, however scantily, in front of Tony's girlfriend) and found a mirror. That was Tony's face, all right, looking more shocked than Steve had ever seen him. Tony's rumpled hair, scruffy goatee, and his hands -

Steve had never taken a good look at Tony's hands before, and he gazed helplessly down at them until Pepper came up behind him and tucked a satin robe around him.

"I think I can explain better over coffee and pancakes," she told him.

* * *

Tony was dreaming a sweet dream, consisting of an orgy with Pepper directing, when he floated back to consciousness. Someone was caressing his chest and kissing his shoulder...and sliding her leg over his hip to nudge his beautifully hard cock...

"Can I help you with that, soldier?" purred a voice. The wrong voice.

It was immediately clear that a, he wasn't dreaming, b, he was indeed rock hard, and c, the woman feeling him up was none other than Peggy Rogers, nee Carter. Who probably thought she was fondling her lawfully wedded husband...

Tony rolled off the bed and stood staring at the lady, who was sitting up, looking marvelously disheveled and relaxed and ready for seduction...

"Damn it," he exclaimed, grabbing his own head to try to stop the inappropriate train of thought. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

He risked a glance downward and groaned, not a happy groan.

"Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"Now I know you're not my husband," came a comment from the direction of the bed. Peggy rose and grabbed a bathrobe off the headboard, donning it as she came around to stand in front of Tony.

"Sorry," Tony muttered. "Language. Sorry bout that."

"Not the language," she told him. "I've heard worse. Come to think of it, I've said worse. No, I meant the reaction. Steve has never once reacted to a come-on by leaping out of bed and cursing. Hello, Tony."

"Hello, P - Wait, what? How do you know who I am?"

"We can discuss that after I've washed and dressed," she said briskly. "Your clothes are in the wardrobe. We'll be going to the tower as soon as you're ready."

She vanished into the bathroom and Tony was left to pick through his worst nightmare: Steve Rogers' wardrobe...

* * *

As it turned out, the whole thing was masterminded by...Frigga, Thor's mother. Thor and Jane had indeed arrived that morning, with the express purpose of delivering a message from the goddess.

"It is no secret that two of our number have been at odds, even quarreling during the course of a mission," Thor began. "Stark and Captain Rogers are from different walks of life, different times - much as I am from a different world than you. For a warrior, knowing and following the hierarchy of command, or at least, of power, is his most powerful tool.

"Stark appears to consider himself outside that hierarchy, while for the Captain it is difficult to function without it, or to others on his team to do so. A compromise, a working agreement, has not been reached, and neither man will break the impasse. That much has been clear to us."

"My honored mother, Frigga, came to Earth to spend time with my intended, and while observing the Avengers, even she noticed the turmoil within our ranks. Upon further inquiry, she devised a plan, with the help of these ladies," he nodded at Peggy and Pepper, "to whom your well-being is most dear."

"What kind of help?" asked Tony suspiciously. Pepper rolled her eyes.

"All we did was agree to allow her to switch you two. I think she wouldn't have done it if either of us had had any major objections."

"I have major objections," Tony began.

"I might have something to say about - " said Steve.

"No, you don't," Peggy interrupted. "You two are staying in those forms until you work out some kind of truce. Not a temporary one, not just until the next time you decide to take Stark to task in public - "

Tony, in Steve's face, looked smug until Peggy went on, " - or the next time Stark decides to flounce off in a snit."

"You noticed that, too?" Pepper muttered.

"Everybody noticed," said Jane quietly. "You two are supposed to be fighting the bad guys, not each other."

"We're not - "

"It's not my - "

"Enough," Thor growled. "I trust my mother in these matters; she raised two sons of most different temperaments and talents, as you know. And do not attempt to plead or bargain with me for your restoration. Even if we are called upon to defend Earth as a team, you will have to answer in whatever form you take."

He and Jane took their leave (from the balcony exit) and Clint and Bruce made an escape shortly thereafter.

"I'm staying here in the tower until this is resolved," said Peggy. "Pepper's giving me one of the guest rooms."

Steve looked hopeful. "So we can - "

"Not we," said Peggy shortly. "You can stay here, if you'd rather not return to our apartment. But you'll be on your own, Steve."

"Same goes for you, Tony," said Pepper. 

"You're kicking me out of my own home?" he said incredulously.

"Damn right I am, Mr. Stark. Peggy and I are both tired of hearing you two rant about each other; I think she and I will have a fine time on our vacation from you."

* * *

So Tony sulked in his workshop, and Steve sulked in the gym. Tony couldn't get much done - his hands were too big and inexperienced for the delicate work he had in progress. He couldn't even type worth a damn. And he certainly couldn't fit into the prototype suits he was building; one was for himself and one for Pepper, neither of whom approached Steve's height or bulk.

Pepper came downstairs in the afternoon to check on him, or maybe just to gloat, he thought spitefully.

"How are you doing in your, um, new outfit?" she asked.

"Peachy," said Tony darkly. "Hunky dory. Guess I'll have to learn to talk like Mr. Squeaky Clean now that I have his mouth."

"Oh, I don't know," said Pepper. "It might be fun hearing you bad-mouthing your equipment in his voice."

"Peggy did say he was known to use 'language'," said Tony hopefully. His stomach gave a prodigious growl. "Scuse me. It's been doing that. You'd think he - I - never ate breakfast."

"That's one of the reasons I came down," Pepper told him. "Peggy says that Steve never goes from breakfast to lunch without some mid-morning meal, and it's almost supper time now. You'd better feed that metabolism before it starts sounding like Mount St. Helen's."

"What a nuisance. Good thing I'm not in the middle of a stroke of genius..."

* * *

Steve was having to learn a whole new workout routine; while Tony was in decent shape for a forty-something-year-old man, his body had been permanently damaged by injury, surgery of varying kinds, and the beatings he had taken as Iron Man. He had scars on the outside and pain on the inside, where a smaller implant had taken the place of the RT that had been removed.

Steve had to curtail his usual run and leave off the punching bag entirely - the impact was hell on his arms and chest. After a shower and some painkillers, he dragged himself to the common area and found Peggy and Pepper finishing up a meal.

"Still alive, I see," said Peggy. 

"Barely," Steve grumbled. "It was strange, though, trying to work out in a body with totally different abilities than mine."

"He's pretty tough, you have to give him that," was Pepper's comment. "He may not have the healing or strength advantages you have - but he's good at hanging on and pushing through pain."

"Rather like Private Steve Rogers," Peggy said. "You made it through boot camp, against all expectations. Well, the expectations of others, anyway."

She smiled encouragingly at him.

"You always had faith, though," said Steve thoughtfully.

"Sometimes that's what tips the scales," she said.

* * *

Three days later

"It's all very well to trust in faith," came the voice over the comms. "I prefer the old saying, 'Trust in God, but keep your powder dry.'"

"Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition," Steve replied wryly.

"Meanwhile, I hate being dirtside. How's it looking up there?"

Steve peered past the heads-up display, which JARVIS had fortunately simplified, to focus on the sight of his own silhouette standing on the deck of the carrier. 

"Love the flying, hate the suit," he said. Tony laughed and Steve added, "So I'm guessing you're not claustrophobic?"

"Not as long as I have the HUD and JARVIS in my ear," Tony replied. "I got used to it pretty quick. I had to."

"You're like Howard that way," said Steve as he (with JARVIS' help) descended slowly to land on the flight deck. "He'd see a problem and build something to solve it."

He'd been cautious about mentioning Howard - Tony obviously had some issues there. Still, in their conversations the last few days, the younger Stark seemed to be making an effort to let those issues lie.

"Like this shield," said Tony as the suit's faceplate lifted. He'd worked with Steve on using the shield, both defensively and as a weapon, and Steve admitted to himself that Tony was a quick study.

Steve looked at his own body, holding his shield, and felt a stab of - envy? longing? It was like seeing another man with Peggy, and wasn't that a chilling thought. Then he realized how Tony must feel about Steve wearing the Iron Man suit, and he couldn't shed it fast enough.

"Come on, get me out of this tin can," he said.

"Gold-titanium alloy can, if you please," said JARVIS tartly. The pieces detached and re-formed into a compact rectangle the size of a suitcase, leaving Steve in a black undersuit and the bracelets that the suit honed in on.

The moment he was free of the suit, Tony was there, handing over the shield. He reached down to grab the handle of the suit unit and straightened, looking squarely at Steve.

"Every man loves his own tools," he said. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink. Several, if you want to relive the glorious experience of getting snockered."

* * *

Tony surfaced from a bleary unconsciousness that only vaguely resembled sleep. His usual waking inventory revealed that he was nude (fine), had a boner (as usual in the mornings), smelled coffee (good), and was hung over (not good, but at least familiar). Oh, and he was having chest pains.

Chest pains?

His eyes flew open (far too abruptly) and he rolled on his back and flung off the covers, to stare down at himself. Apart from the satisfaction of noting that yes, that was his own dick, he felt a jolt of pain in his sternum and an all-too-familiar aftertaste in his dry mouth. Scotch.

"Pepper?" he croaked.

"May I be of assistance, sir?" came JARVIS' voice.

"JARVIS, who am I?"

"That's a rather existential question first thing in the morning, sir," his AI temporized. "Whom do you believe you are?"

"Me, Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. Iron Man. Ow." This as he sat up and stretched and heard his spine pop in several places.

"I believe that your 'time out' is over, as Ms. Potts put it," JARVIS replied. "Congratulations, sir."

"I smell coffee," said Tony, grabbing and donning the robe draped over the end of the bed.

"I took the liberty of activating the coffeemaker at the first sign of your awakening."

"You are a prince, JARVIS. Remind me to give you a raise."

Tony headed for the coffee and had just lifted a full cup to inhale when there was a knock on the door.

"Go 'way, I'm recovering," he muttered, but the door was then opened anyway and he was captured in the arms of his favorite redhead.

"I also took the liberty of alerting Ms. - "

"Potts! It's me, I'm back," he grinned.

"You think I'd be doing this if I thought you were still Steve?" she laughed.

"I dunno, maybe you decided to see if blonds really do have more fun..."

"Shut up and kiss me," she said.

* * *

* * *

"I have to ask," said Steve. Peggy was in his arms and all was right with the world. He was back in his own body, with his wife plastered against him after some athletic, celebratory lovemaking, and he felt reckless.

"Well, if you must," said Peggy.

"What if we never switched back? If we hadn't learned our lessons, figured things out, and I had to stay in Tony's body? And him in mine?"

Peggy leaned up on one elbow. "What about it?"

"I'd still be your husband," he said. "And eventually I'd want to go back to, um, sleeping with you. Would you have a problem with that?"

"Let me ask you this," she said. "Would you have a problem with that thing I like to do to you with my - "

"Hell, no..."

"Shut up and kiss me."


End file.
